They exited the school; two adolescent 7 year-olds, armed with a sheet of Big Chief notepaper.
I was picking my youngest up from elementary school on an autumn Friday afters. Fridays are a favorite at our house; an ice cream treat from DQ, viewing borrowed movies from the library, a later bedtime as we are rebels against our weekly routine.
The 2nd grade offspring was chatting up a fellow classmate. The beginnings of a friendship.
I recognized the boy from a field trip I chaperoned a few weeks prior. He had sat in the bus seat in front of us. I asked my son how his day was and what was in his hand.
The youngest replied, "This is Mason, and I asked him to swap phone numbers so we can call his mom for a play date."
Scrawled on the Big Chief were this boys seven digit number, and he clutched the same with ours. The
"He just looked like he could us a friend Mom," was his reply.
Again the grandma whispered, "I guess he could use a friend." I secured the mothers cell phone number and we headed out to enjoy our separate weekends. I later texted the classmates mother, explaining the Big Chief pages and asking if they would like to come
for a play date, and the friendship was born.
My youngest is a little awkward, like a 30-something man in an adolescent body; possessing a high IQ. In the past fifteen months, he has been diagnosed with ADHD and SPD, Sensory Processing Disorder. He has had to begin the process of gaining the coping skills he wasn't wired with in order to fit in to our societies definition of "normal."
What makes me a proud mama, is that my son independently befriended a boy in need. Just like he has been in need so many times. He was compassionate and Christ-like and saw a boy (now his best buddy) through the eyes of Jesus.
